A Matter of Choice
by Mari Knickerbocker
Summary: !UNDER CONSTRUCTION! These two Hearlds and their Companions were unusual, and that's saying something for every Hearld of Valedmar and their Companion are unique. If they were one of a kind then their child could only be... well read and find out!
1. Journey's Start

AN: I want to thank everyone who has read this in the past and just want to let you know that I'm just editing and improving the story line; adding a few things and taking some things away. It's not essential that you read the rewrites of the chapters, since the basic plot is going to remain the same, but it would help you from getting lost. Mainly I am rewriting this to help jog some more creativity on new chapters; what I have written is not up to standards. Thanks again for all of your support!

The normal disclaimer applies, I am as always simply meddling around with the wonderful world created by the loverly Mercedes Lackey.

* * *

It was a typically glorious mid-summers day at Haven, particularly for the denizens of Companion's Field. For a change, none of their Heralds were in the middle of a life threatening disaster. A rare occurrence and every single Companion was determined to enjoy the unexpected peace. The King was happy and in love with a charming young noble woman. Whose sweet disposition and unpretentious manners quickly made her a favorite amongst the Heralds. What truly endured her to the Heraldic circle was the fact that she understood the importance of a Herald's bond with his/her Companion, and saw no reason to be jealous of it. Even though she was not a Herald and had no Companion of her own; she never seemed to feel ignored or annoyed by Sendar's nearly unbreakable connection to his Companion. There was no political turmoil threatening the Kingdom, not even from Valdemar's old foe Karse – an unexpected boon that everyone praised the gods for in thanksgiving. Even the politics of the Kingdom were pleasant; court intrigues, backstabbing, and spiteful gossip having evaporated overnight.

This freedom from misfortune was so rare that every Companion took the opportunity to indulge in some well earned relaxation. After all, like their Chosen they risked their lives for the greater good of their Kingdom; almost on a daily biases it seemed. Therefore, like their Chosen they deserved to look upon this lull as a vacation from death defying heroics. Sure, some still rode out on circuit, but even the bandits and nature appeared to have decided to cut Valdemar some slack. The usually tediously boring or near death experiences of riding circuit had turned into nothing more taxing than a pleasure jaunt for all those involved.

In the weeks and months to come all the unpaired Companions who sensed their Chosen out in the world would leave then bring back the bright eyed Chosen to the Collegium and the Place to join their fellow soul-sibs as Heralds of Valdemar.

However, therein laid the sole controversy of this other wise perfect summer; for there were two Companions who for years had refused to go seeking Heralds. These Companions, older than most of the herd (parents to Companions already Chosen) would not leave Haven and could not be reasoned with. They insisted that they would go and seek their Chosen when they knew who and where to find them, and only then. For years now, they have lived without a Herald and only a few understood the real reason why. Among those few was the King's Own Herald Talamir and his Grove Born Companion Taver; the only authority the two in question would ever (briefly) contemplate obeying.

The Companion's Lathan and Wyntr were a frustration for Talamir just as they had been a frustration for Talamir's predecessor. If they frustrated Taver, Talamir never knew the stallion had the habit of keeping such things to himself, especially if they concerned his fellow Companions. These two were unusual in more ways than their refusal to find a Chosen. They were of all things lifebonded!

Talamir had no idea how to handle such a thing, who had ever heard of two Companions being lifebonded! The idea was absurd yet there they were; two unpartnered adult Companions who had lifebonded. Never before had such a thing happened. Sure, Talamir had read the special records kept and recorded by the Herald Chronicler and knew that Lavan Firestorm had actually been lifebonded to his Companion Karlira in addition to the Herald/Companion bond. He could even understand how that could happen between a Herald and his/her Companion. Hell Talamir knew some Heralds so closely bonded with their Companions they might as well have been lifebonded. Still that did nothing to tell him how to deal with lifebonded Companions. He could only hope that one day they would decide to go and find Heralds. However, Talamir secretly believed that to be a false hope. He could not have been more wrong.

He was in the stable grooming Taver when the unthinkable happened. Lathan and Wyntr showed up, simultaneously, demanding to be saddled up in their full gear minus the bells. These two, Lathan in particular, were known for their dislike of a saddle. For them to stand there patiently while the unsure stable hands put the never used tack on them, could only mean one thing. The unusual Companions were going out to seek their Chosen.

_.:Taver,:_ Talamir asked the stallion via mindspeech,_: am I really seeing this?:_

_.:Aye Talamir, you are.:._ The Companion replied not bothering to hide his amusement_._

"Well I say it's about time you two went seeking Heralds!" Talamir said aloud startling the stable boys. Lathan pawed at the floor of the stable with one hoof while nodding his head, apparently he agreed with the King's Own. Wyntr merely winked coyly at Talamir with one sapphire eye, then nipped playful at Lathan's shoulder. Talamir could not help but laugh at the mare's antics.

He noticed that Taver seemed to be discussing something with Lathan. Yet, he didn't get a chance to ask his Companion about it for soon the lifebonded pair was saddled up and ready to go, Talamir bid them farewell and good luck on their search. Meanwhile, Taver took the opportunity to sneak out of the stable. Talamir would have gone after the Companion but the bell for lunch rang and swearing gently under his breath Talamir headed back to the Palace. He was late for a council meeting but on the way he could not help but wonder how long Lathan and Wyntr would be gone. _One thing is certain, _Talamir thought with a wry smile,_ their Chosen are bound to be interesting to say the least…_

* * *

On that glorious mid-summer morning the sparkling chime of bridle bells could be heard before the owners of the bells could be seen. As a pleasing counterpoint to the bells the sound of hooves ringing as they hit the road was further proof of approaching travelers. There was a deliberate measure to each hoof fall and the music of their journey reached the top of the hill long before the travelers did. Even though, under other circumstances, they could have easily covered the distance in less time.

A foreign peddler preparing to make the trip down the hill decided to wait and see who was coming up it; if it was a troop of some sort he would rather meet them at the top of the hill instead of somewhere in the middle. His oxen could use the rest and it was such a wonderful day that he did not begrudge the lost time. Therefore while he pulled his cart off of the road and went about feeding and watering his beasts the peddler was privy to a rare sight.

The sound of bridle bells and hooves stopped once they reached the top of the hill and the peddler turned about expecting to see a pair of travelers and their mounts. He was shocked by what he did see; there was a pair of mounts but no riders. It was very strange since the pair of snowy white horses were clearly decked out with all the tack for a rider's long journey. The peddler felt his jaw go slack with surprise and one of the rider less horses regarded him with what he would swear to be amusement. He had heard strange stories about the white horses in this land, how they were thought to be as intelligent as humans but he never gave the stories any credit before. But he had heard about the white horses from the city of Haven and if it wasn't that very city that lay sprawled out behind them the peddler would have gone searching for the missing riders. The foreigner watched as the two "horses" touched forehead to forehead before separating and going off in different directions. The one when north and the other cantered past him on the road to the peddler's home country. Shaking his head in utter amazement and marveling at the tails he'll have to tell back home the peddler eagerly started to make his way down the hill.

...

To finally be on the road heading away from Haven and in search of their Chosen was an immense relief to both Lathan and Wyntr. The years of waiting had been unbearable to them; particularly Wyntr who had become aware of her Chosen long before Lathan sensed his own Chosen. Although she could have left on her search months if not a year ago Wyntr had insisted that she was not ready. Something always held Wyntr back from leaving Companion's Field. That something was the knowledge of Lathan's misery. She knew that being forced to stay behind without knowing where his own Chosen was would make Lathan absolutely miserable. Not only from the separation but form the fear that upon forming the Herald/Companion bond Wyntr would no longer have time only for him. She would not ignore him, deliberately, but she could understand his concern.

This was not the first turn of the wheel for either one of them nor was it the first time that either one of them had come back as a Companion. Each time they had managed to find each other; they had found a way to make things work. Since this time they both had the same form they had cherished their time together and were loath to allow anything to interfere. When Taver (the Grove Born) had discovered that they were still lifebonded he had assumed that they would never Choose a Herald. That in fact there was absolutely no need for them to Choose. He could not have been more wrong. But they did not hesitate to take advantage of his assumption. Once Taver realized that he was wrong, he insisted that they must find their perspective Heralds immediately. They had just given into Taver's urgings, but only after two years and Lathan finally knowing that his Chosen was indeed walking around somewhere out in the world. There was, however, still the lingering question of how everyone would get along.

.:_Now love, don't go borrowing trouble. We waited this long for a reason, it will all work out_.:. He reassured her before nuzzling at her neck and then taking off to the west towards Rethwellan. Noticing the peddler's attention (not for the first time) Wyntr gave him another amused glance before heading north. Shaking her head she could not help but note the irony of Mr. Worrywart comforting her.


	2. Wyntr's Path

Wyntr had been on the road for nearly two weeks now and was only just approaching the end of the first leg of her journey. The Forest of Sorrows lay sprawled out before her looming with the weight of its secrets. She would have reached Sorrows sooner if she had taken a more direct route. But she could not bring herself to be the cause of any one's shattered dreams. Even if the children (and adults) of Valdemar did not fully understand a Companion's Choice they all had the dream of riding off on a Companion to join the King's service then embark on grand adventures; all with the goal of leaving their more pedestrian life behind. Sadly those 'lucky' enough to be Chosen swiftly learned that they may have been better off with that pedestrian life they had so eagerly abandoned. To see her come cantering through town would only raise people's hopes and then shatter them the minute they realized that she would not be stopping. Wyntr could not do that even if it was faster to travel on the main roads. Therefore she stuck to the back roads seeking shelter in the Waystations when she needed to; using paths that only a Companion or possibly a goat could find. It may have made for a circuitous route but Wyntr counted her blessings. At least she could move openly and in the day light; poor Lathan was having no such luck.

He had crossed the border into Rethwellan a few days back and had been forced to restrict his movements to nighttime only. He did not need to be as cautious as he would have been if Lathan was traveling through Karse; but, he still traveled at night not liking the way some Rethwellans viewed him as a "fancy bit of horse flesh." Wyntr couldn't fault his caution she would rather avoid people instead of risking some ignorant fool's attempt to stick a bit in her mouth or use spurs on her. It was bad enough in Valdemar when a fool attempted to strap up a Companion like they would any average horse but at least in Valdemar there was a guarantee that someone else around would be able to recognize a Companion for being something more than just a horse. No matter how many times a Herald and Companion visited Rethwellan the native populace could not grasp the concept that Companions are a different breed from horses.

_The only thing that would cure them from their stupidity would be for a Companion to Choose one of those overly inbred, ridiculously named Rethwellan nobles_. Wyntr thought to herself shaking her head. Her worry for Lathan could prove a distraction for her during her Search.

.:_Now that would be a solution I promise to mention it to Taver the next chance I get.:._ Lathan's mindvoice came to her, faint with the effort of covering the miles in-between them. Still she could clearly sense his amusement and it felt like a warm spring rain.

.:_Don't worry for me love you have your Chosen to find and I must find mine. I am only in Rethwellan to gather information about my Chosen just as you travel through Sorrows_.:. He reminded her. .:_Focus on finding your Chosen, lover mine, the sooner you do that the sooner we will be together again_.:.

It was a tempting thought but Wyntr recognized it for the dangling carrot that it was meant to be. She had used that particular carrot on him once or twice in the past and was slightly surprised to have the tables turned on her. For a moment she thought about arguing with him but decided to let her silence speak for her. Once again she felt his amusement. With an exasperated snort Wyntr started moving towards the tree line.

_Perhaps this distance between us is a good thing_; she through to herself not bothering to keep it private knowing that Lathan would eavesdrop. _After all absence makes the heart grow fonder_.

.:_I love you too dear heart; and I do miss you.:._

_.:It is healthy for you to miss me.:._ Wyntr replied tossing her mane and nickering. Accompanied by the sound of Lathan's laughter she entered Sorrows.

...

Wyntr knew all the stories travelers whispered about the forest and Vanyel's Curse; she also knew the truth. Every Companion, to some extent, knew that Vanyel's curse was real, only a select few knew just how real. Taver as the Grove Born stallion knew and Wyntr had been born with the knowledge. Even if she hadn't it would not have been so impossible for her to believe that Vanyel's spirit remained in the forest protecting Valdemar's northern border.

Why wouldn't he time himself to the forest to stand as an invisible barrier to any foe from the North? No Herald, when given the option turned down the chance to continue to serve and protect Valdemar. If they did then there would be a serious shortage in the number of Companions born each year. The kind of people Chosen by the Companions were not the type to allow something like death to prevent them from doing their duty. Yes Wyntr understood very well why Vanyel remained.

She could also understand the prohibition on true magic in Valdemar. She had been a Herald herself in the years following the death of the last Herald-Mage, and she remembered how difficult it had been to gain the people's trust and respect. No one in those days believed that Heralds with only their mind-magic was enough protection. The people of Valdemar had been spoiled by magic; they relied too heavily upon it to solve their problems. Moreover, they failed to see when things were made worse because of magic. But most of all there had been mistrust because for the most part one couldn't actively see the results of mind-magic. No one ever easily trusted in anything that appeared underhanded.

She shook her head violently to ride it of its cobwebs. Perhaps Lathan had a point when he claimed that she spent too much time concerned about the past. _I best get my head out of the clouds; I don't need him thinking that he's right_; Wyntr chided herself.

With that in mind; Wyntr picked a meandering course through the strangely still woods. She did not bother to stick to the road or any other marked pathway realizing that what she needed to find was not something that one could be lead to. It was far more likely that she would just stumble across what she needed. Therefore she took her time traveling through the forest noticing how the sunlight filtered through the trees. In some places there were brighter shafts of sunlight than in others. Curious she looked up to see that some tree branches were nearly bare; the leaves having changed and fallen to the forest floor long before she arrived. It had been a little past mid-summer when she left and now autumn was well under way this far north. She hoped she would be able to find her Chosen before the snow started flying. Wyntr did not cherish the idea of traveling in the cold and snow. She picked up her ambling pace just a little bit and moved further into the forest.

Eventually the sound of running water reached her ears and Wyntr shifted directions to head towards it. She was not overly fastidious by nature but it would be nice to wash some the travel and grime out of her fetlocks and a drink of water to cool her throat would always be welcomed. In all honesty it was more the thought of a nice drink that drove her forward than the need to get clean.

The path slowly opened up on a sheltered glade. On one end there was an opening to a cave and sporadically throughout the glade willows had sprung up to provide some shade. There were patches of wildflowers some with butterflies lazily hovering above them. Running alongside the glade – nearly opposite from where she was standing – was a happily bubbling brook; the sight of which caused Wyntr's ears to swivel forward with interest.

Carefully Wyntr made her way towards the brook; she did not want to disturb the glade unnecessarily, she had the sense that this was a private place. Therefore she set each hoof down with all of the care of a dainty court lady. For all of the impression she made on the soft turf she might as well have been living in the body of a rabbit instead of a powerful horse.

Not only did Wyntr sense that this was a private place but it was a cherished one as well. The little she disturb the meadow the more appreciated her efforts would be. For all that the glade looked natural Wyntr could feel that it had been tampered with; in little subtle ways but still tampered. The smell of magic in this place tickled her noise making her nostrils flare with the effort of stifling a most unladylike snort. Although she was not clear on how she personal felt about someone tampering with nature for purely cosmetic reasons, she certainly could find it in herself to respect any entity possessing enough power to shape nature to his will. She was also not foolish enough to anger such an entity.

Upon reaching the brook Wyntr discovered that not only was it deeper than she had expected but it flowed along at a rapid pace. She also noticed that there were quite a few sharp and heavy rocks on the water bed. Apparently whoever had shaped this glade did not care much for swimming. Not willing to risk breaking a leg Wyntr decided to forgo wading in the water. She would just have to have her Chosen give her a good rub down and depending on how well he scratched the itchy spots she might not let him stop. While prudence kept her from washing away some of the accumulated grime, she still could get a drink. She dipped her muzzle into the brook only to jerk her head back with a snort of surprise at the waters cold temperature. She had suspected that it would chilly but not borderline on ice cold. Shaking herself she resolutely reached forward for another attempt.

After drinking her fill she realized that night was swiftly approaching and Wyntr did not feel any pressing need to move on. Truth be told a she was tired from the days of constant travel; a weariness that had settled into her very bones. Besides she was taking this detour through Sorrows specifically to speak with the forests inhabitants. Moreover, what better way to gain their attention than making herself an unavoidable intrusion on their privacy. _They can attempt to track me down for a change_; Wyntr thought not worried about governing the waspishness of her thought. She was glad that Lathan was now out of mind-speaking range and too preoccupied with his own journey to tap into a node and boost his gift merely to scold her. He would have a few comments about her tone, but she couldn't really help it excessive travel made her cranky. Being tired as she was she lost all control over usually tranquil disposition.

As exhaustion settled in Wyntr looked about for a place to bed down for the night. At first she considered using the cave, and although it looked inviting she quickly dismissed the idea. The cave reminded her of the secluded groves in the palace gardens and she knew that they were a favorite for clandestine meetings between lovers. She wanted to be a nuisance to the forests inhabitants but she did not want to intrude that much. Besides if she really angered the restless spirits they could decide to collapse the entrance to the cave and leave her trapped there. Not that she seriously believed such a thing would happen but she did believe in being cautious; one never knew what would upset isolated spirits.

Therefore since it was still quite warm for an autumn night and she truly believed that any harm would befall her while in this glade, she decided to sleep beneath a willow tree. Folding her legs beneath her she lowered herself to the ground. The grass formed itself around her body feeling just as soft and plush as it had looked. With an explosive sigh Wyntr rested her head on her forelegs and closed her eyes. She couldn't help but wish that Lathan was curled up beside her and if she couldn't have him she wanted her Chosen with her. In a perfect world both would be by her side. Alas, she had never lived in a perfect world and doubted that she ever would.

* * *

Wyntr woke to the sound of birdsong, a woodlark if she was any judge. Her ears twitched involuntarily in an attempted to locate which direction the birdsong was coming from. She refused to open her eyes and look; if she opened them then that meant that it really was morning. Wyntr did not want it to be morning. The chirping of some infernal bird could be ignored but not the proof of her own eyes. A bird might be easy to ignore but the persisting grumbling in her stomach was proving too much for her; particularly when the smell of apples reached her nostrils. Predictably her stomach began to growl in response. That's what finally persuaded her to open her eyes more than any chirping ever could.

Wyntr pealed open one sapphire eye to find the glade was flooded with sunlight and the source of that near heavenly aroma was right in front of her. Just out of her reach was a neat little pyramid of tantalizing red apples. With a sudden surge of energy she did not entirely feel Wyntr scrambled to stand. Once standing she eyed the apples warily. She was more than hungry enough to just devour them. But part of her did not trust mysteriously appearing apples, and so she hesitated.

.:_Go ahead little mother and eat your fill, I promise they are not poisoned_.:. A man's baritone reassured her coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Wyntr snorted with derision – _trust a spirit to know that I am a mother_; she thought to herself not at all impressed. _Now if he can tell me how many foals I've had, I just might be impressed_.

.:_Three so far, all colts._:. A man's tenor whispered by her ear causing Wyntr to whinny in surprise her head jerking back even as her eyes widened and her ears swiveled forward.

.:_Let her eat._:. This new voice was distinctly female. Moreover this newcomer spoke with an exasperated authority and it was a tone Wyntr remembered using whenever her colts had pushed her to the end of her patience and beyond.

_.:I do not mind holding a conversation over breakfast,:,_ Wyntr informed the bodiless voices politely enough, then allowing some of her own exasperation to show continued. _.:I do however, mind not being able to see those who I am conversing with.:._

That remark earned her an amused chuckle from the baritone and outright laughter from the tenor. Sunlight began to pool in three separate places; one directly in front of her, one right next to her and the third in-between the two and off to the side a ways. Within those pools of sunlight's figures began to take shape. They never fully solidified – for Wyntr could see right through them – but when they were done forming she found herself looking at two men and a Companion.

.: _Well said little mother; our apologies for not showing ourselves earlier. Usually one expects a stranger to react rather poorly to the sight of a ghost_.:. Again the baritone spoke and its owner proved to be the man standing directly in front of her. He was wearing an antiquated version of Heraldic whites a version that Wyntr vaguely remembered wearing herself once upon a time. She regarded the specter of Vanyel calmly with one eye before turning her attention to her breakfast.

.:_I see that meeting three ghosts does not phase you_.:. Vanyel continued wryly.

.:_She is a Companion why should it?_:. Yfandes asked sounding smug.

.: '_She' has a name and it is Wyntr_.:. Wyntr spoke up quickly getting tired of being talked about directly over her head.

.:_It is nice to meet you Wyntr, please excuse their manners it's been many years since we've had any company_.:. The other man (who must be Stefan/Tyelndal) greeted her. For a moment she was relieved to see that at least one of the spirits had some manners. She reckoned without knowing Stefan's talent for causing mischief.

.:_It's a shame your Stallion could not have come with you Wyntr. I would have loved to meet the fellow that could tempt you to risk your girlish figure not once but three times!_:.

.:_Apparently it's true what they say everybody's a comedian, even the dead_.:. She retorted dryly earning out right laughter from all of them.

.:_How may we help you my dear?_:. Vanyel asked once his form had stopped fading in and out in time to his mirth.

.:_I am looking for my Chosen and have reason to believe that you know where I can find him_.:


	3. Lathan's Path

Parting with Wyntr had been difficult but necessary for the journey. They both understood that the seeking of their Chosen was something a Companion was meant to accomplish through his or her own efforts. Lathan wished that they could have traveled together but that could not be. His way lay to the south and west while Wyntr's path took her to the far northeast. Neither one of them could begin to guess how long on the road they would be, but each hoped they could time things out so that they arrived back in Heaven if not simultaneously, then at least within a few days of each other. It would suit Lathan's sense of symmetry if the two Companions returned together; besides that it would only add to their growing reputation. Lathan was not above taking pride in a good reputation. Lathan was not above taking pride in anything he did as a general principal.

Still he felt the sting of separation a lot more keenly than he had allowed Wyntr to believe; he did not want her to be tempted into stopping her search to join him. Lathan could put on a brave face and deal with the loneliness. For a usually overly confident Companion (despite Wyntr mockingly calling him Mr. Worrywart all the time) Lathan was not sure if he could cope with the persistent stupidity of the Rethwellan people.

He had not been exaggerating when he told Wyntr about the local's eagerness to make him into the newest prize stallion in their stable. Their ignorance was insulting; him a simple horse! Granted without a Herald they probably did not recognize him for what he truly is, but still even then Companions were barely even given the respect they deserved. _I would be shown more respect if I were one of those Shin'a'in battle mares_, Lathan thought scornfully.

Currently he was hiding in yet another clump of over grown weeds and bushes waiting for yet another group of noblemen and peasants to give up searching for the 'white stallion' long enough in this area for Lathan to move. This obnoxious game of cat and mouse was going to become a legend around here, especially if some fool Bard got his hooks into the story. A thought that sickened Lathan as well as made him want to kick something out of frustration. Hopefully, soon, he would manage to stumble his way into the lands of those whom he needed to speak with before starting the next leg of his journey. At the rate he was going it literally would be stumble. Lathan had almost forgotten what a full night's sleep felt like; he had been forced to spend the majority of his time traveling at night and during the day any attempt at resting he made was inevitably interrupted by the local idiots.

He knew that the further south he traveled the more ignorant of Companions the people would become, but they would also be more aware of Shin'a'in horses and if his plan worked he would be in the company of someone who would discourage any and all attempts at acquiring him. That is if the persons he was trying to locate were still alive, and if he was actually looking in the part of Rethwellan. As far as he knew the information he had obtained was correct. Of course he had gotten it from Fortunea who in turn had gotten the information from her Chosen the former Bard Jadus after she had casually suggested he spend the afternoon searching through the Heraldic chronicles for ideas for some new historically based songs. Granted the record Fortunea had her Chosen hunting for on Lathan's behalf was not that old, having been written by the King's father, still there was always the chance that something had been lost as it made its way back to him. That's way Lathan had been sending out sporadic mindcalls hoping that one of the women would answer. So far, he had gotten no replies. Undaunted Lathan pressed forward – after all he did not really have an option, he needed to find his Chosen.

Therefore, once the latest mounted hunting party passed out of sensing range Lathan slinked out of hiding grinding his teeth and wishing fervently that he darned rushed one of the parties just for the enjoyment of knocking one or a few men out of the saddle and watching the rest scatter. Fortunately for Rethwellan's 'precious' nobles, he did not think it was worth the risk. Instead he took the time to amuse himself with vivid daydreams about a few of those over-bred popinjays falling face or arse first into the mud. If anyone was around to hear they would have sworn that the ninny that came from the underbrush sounded remarkably like a young man snickering.

….

Two days later, Lathan was no longer in a laughing mood. He had literately stumbled into a hunting party earlier that day; a party that was smart enough to start checking the deer and goat trails, who had also thought to bring along some dogs. Exhausted from the weeks of hyper-vigilance and moving about as if he were in enemy territory caused Lathan to panic at the sight of the hounds. Acting like the mere horse they thought him to be Lathan had broken cover and ran in the first direction that seemed clear to him. He ran until his panic began to fade and once he was able to think clearly he did not dare to try to stop and muddle the trail. They were on to him now and currently there was not enough cover for him to attempt double backing or laying false trails. If he had the advantage of knowing the terrain, he would have been able to just outrun his pursuers. But he did not know the area and he only really had a vague idea of where he should be heading. Cursing himself for a fool he stayed on the path he was currently following, he could not see another alternative right then.

His pursuers must have had intimate knowledge of the area for he soon became aware of the fact that they were not falling behind but instead using the hounds in attempt to guide him up against one of the nearby cliff faces were they thought he could not escape. Part of him still in the grip of his earlier panic wondered if they meant to kill him. Just then the path turned into a wooded area and Lathan darted under the cover of the tree tops, sensing that he just missed having the jaws of a hound clamp down on his hind leg. As he crashed through the undergrowth and the trunks flashed by him the sight of an old game trail caught his eye. He waited until it was at least three body lengths behind him before sharply banking to the right and darting after it. Once he gained the old trail he put a little more speed into his gait, not daring to run flat out. It would do him no good to risk a broken leg now or to tire himself out any more than what was absolutely necessary. A few cries of alarm reached his ears; apparently even this cumbersome gait was more than they had expected him capable of producing.

The track led him out of the woods and onto the lands of a holding. Lathan nearly whimpered in dismay at the sight of the buildings. He doubted that he would find any help here but he could not allow himself to be chased about like some mindless animal any longer. The only thing he accomplished then was becoming even more exhausted then he was when this whole debacle started. Deciding that he needed to make a stand Lathan spotted a stable with an attached corral complete with occupants. Making a split second discussion Lathan headed straight towards the corral. The owner's of the holding would in all likelihood simply barricade him into a stall, but they certainly would not look fondly upon a hunting party barging into their corral and disturbing the horseflesh. Now with a place of, if not safety at least momentary relief, in sight Lathan let loose with a burst of speed that made Companions legendary. Behind him Lathan thought he heard shouts of dismay. They were actually whoops of encouragement for the hounds.

He was only a few feet away from his goal and was reading himself to make a herculean jump over the fence, when out of nowhere a crossbow bolt hit him in his left hip. The force of the impact coupled with the lost of forward momentum; knocked him off his feet and sent him skidding into the fence he had been prepared to jump moments before. As his body slammed into the disgustedly sturdy wooden fence, Lathan felt his breath leave him even as he banged his skull against a fence post. He managed to clear the stars from his eyes and regain his footing just in time. For the hounds were upon him and after a long chase ending in the scent of fresh blood they were no longer content to just bay at him.

One large brute of an animal was the first to lunge at him. Keeping his back to the fence, Lathan reared up on his hind legs then brought his silver hooves down on the poor beast. Bashing in his skull and killing him instantly. The shock and violence of his defense caused the rest of the pack to hesitate; but only for a moment. When the next attack came it was two moving against him instead of one. At least they were intelligent; he would be insulted if it was just a pack of flea bitten mutts that killed him.

By now the hunters and their mounts had caught up to the action but instead of calling off the hounds they had formed a half circle, ready to watch the impending massacre and there to prevent Lathan from escaping back into the woods. Instead of showing mercy they shouted encouragement to the hounds whipping them up into a further frenzy. Furious that they would not stop what they could so easily prevent Lathan reared up to his full height lashing at the air with his hooves.

.:_Bastards!_.: He shouted at them even as he trumpeted a scream of defiance. It pleased him to note that some of the men's smug smiles faltered. He was prepared to fight for his life and take down as many of the hounds he could in the process. But he was not foolish enough to think that he could escape from this without any help, therefore he sent out one more broadcasted mindcall hoping that if anyone heard it help would arrive in time.

Lathan managed to take down three more of the beasts before help finally arrived. Just in time too, for his left hind leg crumbled underneath the strain of defending himself. Lathan went down with a pain filled scream. He tried to get up again but his leg would no longer cooperate. Try though he might there was no way he could regain his footing in time. The pack paused for a brief, nearly unnoticeable moment, to see if he would regain his footing. When they realized that he would not, they then began to close ranks in order to finish him off. The pack was almost upon him when the body of an impossibly huge wolf-like creature appeared out of nowhere directly in front of Lathan's prone body. Lathan struggled to meet this new threat, not registering the fact that the wolf was facing down the hounds not preparing to attack him. He struggled even harder when the monstrous wolf was joined by four riders on deadly looking mounts.

.:_Clam yourself brother we are not here to harm you_,:, a voice reached out to him settling the turmoil of Lathan's mind. The Companion whipped his head around to find that the wolf was looking directly at him. Upon seeing that he had Lathan's attention the creature gave him a wink. Soothed back into orderly thinking from the stranger's influence Lathan recognized the animal for what he was, a _kyree_.

.:_That's right brother, relax yourself and allow my bond mate and her_ she'enedra _deal with these fools_.:.

Convinced that not only had he found helped but had literally crashed into the path of those he had been looking for; Lathan allowed himself relax further and was not surprised when his vision dimmed. The strain his body was under was too much for anyone to reasonable cope with, and so he gladly allowed himself to drift off.

…

Some candlemarks later found Lathan becoming aware of having been well groomed and placed somewhere warm. The next thing he was aware of was the pain radiating from his hip. The last thing he became aware of was the sound of murmuring voices. Startled by the sound Lathan attempted to shy away from it only to be stopped by the burning fire that spread from his hip.

"I'd try not to move just now if I were you laddy-buck," a harsh voice advised him.

Lathan opened his eyes and turned his head to find himself staring at a remarkably hawked faced woman. Her skin was golden and crisscrossed with old scars; her black hair was slowly turning iron with age. Her eyes were icy-blue that peered at him with the alarming quality of appearing to look right through him. They were the eyes of a hawk, or a killer. Lathan recognized her immediately from the description in the chronicles.

Sitting next to the woman was the _kyree_ Lathan had first mistaken for over grown wolf. Relief washed over him apparently out of disaster a miracle had occurred. He had been rescued by the very people he had been hoping to find.

.:_You would think that one such as him would be wise enough not to get chased about the countryside,_:, the mindvoice from before remarked sardonically. Lathan leveled the _kyree _with a harsh gaze; he did not appreciate the smart remarks. He was fully aware of how ridiculous he looked being chased about like some wild animal.

"Perhaps he is still young and foolish, you know how idiotic young males are," this time a different woman spoke, her voice distinctly more pleasant-sounding than her friend. Swiveling his ears backwards following the direction of the sound Lathan eventually had to crane his neck over his shoulder in order to see the second woman. She was standing by his injured hip holding a naked blade directly over his wound. Lathan was about to turn around and attack the woman when before his very eyes the wound Healed. He had unquestionably stumbled across the right people.

"Well foolish though he may be, that old piece of tin seems to have taken shine to him," the Shin'a'in barked contemptuously.

.:_Perhaps he is a neuter and that is why the sword works for him_.:. The _kyree_ suggested, obviously amused. Lathan pinned back his ears and allowed his upper lip to curl at that suggestion. He was quickly getting sick and tired with the _kyree_ being amused at his own expense.

"No Warrl he's all stallion," the hawked faced woman remarked, "like all stallion's a fool."

.:_My lady would tell you that age or gender has no bearing on wisdom_.:. Lathan could tell that they were surprised by him actually speaking to them. The Shin'a'in was the first to recover. She laughed hoarsely before remarking:

"Your lady sounds very wise indeed. Now what brings a Companion of Valdemar so far into Rethwellan?"

.:_I need clear directions to the Dhorisha Plains and knowledge about where each clan is suspected to be camping this time of year_.:. Lathan answered the woman bluntly. One of her eyebrows rose quizzically and she exchanged a look with the red haired woman who was now applying a band aid to the wound.

"What are the odds Keth that just when you were talking about going to visit with the clan a Companion looking for the Plains shows up?"

"I stopped believing in odds when it comes to Valdemar long ago Tarma."

.:_You will help me?_:.

"Don't see why not laddy-buck, seems like we're all heading in the same direction after all."

.:_Just answer me this Companion, why were the hunters convinced that they had captured a rare white stag?_:. Warrl asked. Lathan snorted in aggravation. He really could do without this Warrl's smart ass remarks and adittude.


	4. Lathan's Choice

Lathan was relieved when they finally neared the Dhorisha Plains. Although he was grateful to the Swordsorn and her she'enedra for their company he was glad to be away from the _kyree_. For some reason Warrl took immense satisfaction out of teasing him. Lathan liked to think that he was a tolerant and easy going person, but that _kyree _could have angered a sanit. Therefore when he sensed that his path lead him towards Kata'shin'a'in and not out onto the Plains with them, he took his leave.

* * *

Azaelia shena Vuysher'edras the youngest shaman her clan had ever seen was traveling, not for the first time, to Kata'shin'a'in. The journey was a long and tiring one, even for the Shin'a'in crossing the Dhorisha Plains in the dead of summer was no pleasure jaunt. _Especially if one isn't very familiar with the journey because they are told to stay behind,_ Azaelia thought with a twinge of envy for those who had the freedom to make the journey when they wanted to. Still she had gone and now before her was the city of tents spread out on the horizon looking as colorful as she remembered, and she was grateful for the sight of it.

She was amazed really that a memory form when she was a child of five, seventeen years ago, held up with the brilliance of reality. Everything was in the exact same place she remembered it being, from the horse paddocks to the clan's campsite. She would always be amazed by her people's resilience. Years ago when her mother was a child an event had occurred at the annual horse fair that had frighten every clan; the bloody and unnecessary massacre of Tale'sedrin right down to last woman and child. Following that no clan would bring every member with them outside the protection of the Plains, only a small delegation left for the annual horse fair. Enough time had passed now that the clans were sending larger groups though they continued to maintain their diligence.

"Azaelia _jel'endra_," a woman's musical voice called her, pulling the Shaman out of her musing.

"Illmene," she replied not bothering to turn around.

"Stop admiring the visage and come help me pitch the tents." Illmene ordered her with dry humor. Azaelia laughed and went over to her sister's side to help. _Only an older sister would dare boss about a shaman_, Azaelia thought wryly.

"Forgive my woolgathering; it is always such a surprise to me to be away from the Plains."

"It remains a surprise," Illmene answered cryptically. Azaelia sighed inwardly, fighting the temptation to roll her eyes. Her sister's propensity for cryptic remarks often made Azaelia think that the Goddess should have chosen Illmene to be Shaman not blunt spoken Azaelia.

"You are our Shaman I was surprised the Elders agreed to let you come this time," Illmene wondered aloud as always uncannily able to sense the train of her sisters thoughts. Becoming aware of what she was saying Illmene paused awkwardly uncertain if she should continue. "After…"

"Colemo's death," Azaelia murmured. The death of her teacher had come suddenly, as well as painfully, not just for the young Shaman but also for the entire clan. Her death had been over a year ago and since that time the clan, especially the Elders, have treated Azaelia as a priceless bauble.

"Well I'm glad you were able to come regardless." Illmene tried to say tactfully. Clearly she felt that she had over stepped herself.

"Yes well even if I am the youngest shaman the clans has seen in some time, I am still a shaman and I have my own things to attend to." Azaelia said amazingly keeping her anger and her bitterness in check. She could not lose her composure even if it was justified; it was just something a Shaman could never afford to do, especially around family. _Thank the Star-Eyed for the moonpaths,_ Azaelia thought with unmatched gratitude.

Trough the moonpaths Azaelia was still able to speak with her mentor. The continued contact with Colemo was what had made her first year as an official Shaman easier than it could have been. It was Colemo who insisted Azaelia set out on this pilgrimage and Colemo who told Azaelia who to seek aid from. She sighed in exasperation at the idea of hunting down another Shaman, but because Colemo had insisted Azaelia had traveled to Kata'shin'a'in in search of a Shaman.

Pitching the tents did not take as long as Azaelia feared it would, everyone was anxious to browse through the shops that could be found at the annual horse fair. Therefore they went swiftly about their tasks. A profitable afternoon was then spent in perusing the various merchant tents, discovering items that merely caught their eyes or demanded to be bought. Illmene bought more trinkets than the young Shaman thought reasonable, although she herself spent time lightening her money pouches.

Azaelia could just not pass up the beautifully carved throwing knife she had found. The designed engraved on the silver handle was not only exquisite but also captivating; it consisted of a series of interwoven circles and it was impossible to tell when one began and the other ended. She also could not bear to leave behind the pair of silver bracelets she found. The craftsmanship was breath taking and the artist had haggled fiercely for a price. Azaelia may have spent more than she planned but it was worth every coin.

It was at the jewelry stall that Azaelia found herself literally bumping into the Shaman Colemo had spoken of. She had just purchased the bracelets, much to the annoyance of Illmene.

"You certainly took your time deciding to buy them, and much to long to bargain for them Azaelia." Illmene criticized her sister, even as her eyes eagerly scanned the crowd. Azaelia knew who her sister was looking for, and she knew that Illmene's annoyance wasn't directed at her. _Typical Illmene,_ Azaelia thought rather indulgently, _she wouldn't notice that Kavi's eyes have been following her every move all day and devouring the sight._

"I can't just throw my money away Illmene, even on lovely things, I had to make sure they were worth it. Go ahead if you are that eager to spend your money, I know my way back and will not get lost." Illmene snorted at that reply but sauntered off anyways having finally spotted her lover. Azaelia watched the two women make their way out of the market holding hands and walking very close to each other.

She turned quickly away from the sight not wanting to be tempted to wallow in self-pity. Unfortunately, she walked right into an elderly woman whose midnight hair was streaked with silver. Azaelia apologized excessively, but the old woman just ignored them.

"Do not worry child I am fine," the woman reassured her, "you on the other hand are not very observant. From the way Colemo spoke of you I would have expect differently, how disappointing."

"Pardon?" Azaelia asked completely taken aback by the woman. Her response was to laugh; it was a bright little laugh that instantly put Azaelia at ease.

"Come young _laj'ele'ruvon_ let me guide you." With that cryptic remark, the woman left, clearly expecting Azaelia to follow. Follow she did, for she was curious and she rarely denied her curiosity.

They made their way out of the market and towards the area where the Grasscat Clan usually set up their camp. The woman led her to one tent in particular and holding the tent flap open motioned for Azaelia to enter.

"Please sit," she told Azaelia motioning to a cushion, "I am Simona shena Pretera'sedrin Shaman to the Grasscat Clan, and you are Azaelia shena Vuysher'edras Shaman to the Brothers of the Wolf, correct?" Azaelia could only nod. "Good," the woman said sitting down with a boneless grace that Azaelia hoped she would have at that age. "I believe Colemo wanted us to meet."

"How do you know this?" Azaelia inquired allow herself some suspicion. As unlikely as it was that this old woman wished her harm Azaelia was still cautious enough to doubt her claims. In fact she was ashamed that she had blindingly followed the woman to her tent already.

"I have met Colemo on my journeys on the moonpaths these past few weeks and she has spoken of her desire for me to guide you." Simona replied unperturbed by Azaelia's rude demand.

"Ah," Azaelia responded with growing comprehension, Simona smiled.

"I applaud you for your suspicion child, perhaps you are not as hopeless as I thought," came the barbed compliment. "In a normal case, I would have taken you to the place of the Crone Sworn Kal'enedril by now and you would have learned how our history is recorded. However, this is not a normal case, and that was not what Colemo meant to come from our meeting." Simona told her, not bothering to cloud the issue.

"Then why have us meet?" Azaelia asked with a slightly perplexed look. She felt comfortable showing her confusion to the more experienced Shaman, despite the rebuke it might earn her.

"That is the question," Simona replied with a sigh, "and for the answer we must travel to the moonpaths." She finished holding out both of her hands for Azaelia. The younger Shaman took her hands, without bothering to ask any more questions. Azaelia then closed her eyes, taking her cue form Simona, and prepared herself for the journey to the moonpaths.

Any member of the clans could make this journey, but only on the night of the full moon. The Sword sworn, however, could make the journey on any night they wished whether there was a moon or not. It was only the Shamans who had the right to journey to the moonpaths whenever they so wished, day or night, moon or no moon.

Therefore, with some trepidation, Azaelia allowed herself to fall into the familiar meditation and then sent her spirit out of her body and upwards, towards the heavens. She soon found her feet resting on what appeared to be a soiled path of sand. A path that dropped off suddenly on both sides, and above, beneath and around her was nothing but the stars.

She turned to her left and standing there was Simona, and the elder Shaman's spirit was not alone. Next to Simona, there was a woman that Azaelia did not often see on the moonpaths, although this was the woman's domain. The woman looked like any other Shina'ain, with dark hair and golden skin, the only difference was Her black clothing and Her eyes. Instead of being blue or any other color, they were nothing but the expanse of a starry night sky. The Star-Eyed in all of her glory, She came in Her aspect as the Warrior and not as the Crone as Azaelia would have expected.

"Well met my little _laj'ele'ruvon_," the Star-Eyed greeted Her Shaman. Azaelia bowed her head in response; she did not know how to address her Goddess, for she did not often speak with Her. The Star-Eyed smiled at Azaelia's formality. "What I am about to tell you is very important my Azaelia, you must pay attention." Azaelia nodded her assent. She began speaking and Azaelia was soon struck mindless but what she heard, such was the shock of it all.

The next thing she knew was that her spirit had returned to her physical body and Simona was now staring at her intently, waiting for her reaction.

"But that cannot be!" She exclaimed as soon as she realized where she was. "The Star-Eyed could not possibly want me to leave the Clans, to leave the Plains!"

"Yet it seems that that is exactly what She wants, child," Simona explained carefully.

" I am needed here, the Plains are my home! How can I leave my clan , how can She want me to leave Her?"

"You may be leaving the land of Her people Azaelia, but you will not be leaving Her. You shall still be Her Shaman, but She has seen that there is greater need for you elsewhere." Simona responded, telling Azaelia the exact same thing the Goddess had said.

"What of my clan? Who will be their Shaman?" Azaelia asked.

"I have had many apprentices, one of them or more will be willing to serve the Brothers of the Wolf as their Shaman." Was the logical answer, "You must leave Azaelia and you know this, you have felt it before now. The Star-Eyed only waited to tell you because She wanted to make sure the time was near. And when the time for leaving does come you will go without hesitation, you know this Azaelia as does She." Azaelia shook her head trying to deny all that Simona told her, but she knew the truth of it. On many occasions after meditation she had told Colemo that she felt that there was a task for her outside of the Dhorisha Plains.

"I am sorry Simona but I…"

"I understand Azaelia; just remember that you will be doing Her will." With that little bit of comfort Simona held open the tent flap for Azaelia once again. The younger Shaman left, after a mumbled and not all sincere thank you.

She made her way back to her own tent, in a haze unaware of others in the world. Upon reaching the dubious safety of her own tent, Azaelia unfolded her sleeping roll and plopped down on it. She did not care that her saddle bags still needed to be unpacked, or that she was still wearing the clothing she had traveled in. So exhausted was she that such things did not matter; soon Azaelia had fallen asleep and then even her dreams were troubled.

…..

Azaelia was awoken some time after midnight by the sound of a stallion's triumphant whinny. For a moment she laid on her sleeping roll confused, she did not remember seeing a stallion amongst the horses they had brought to sell. Most had been curs with a few geldings that were two sweet of temper for life on the plains. There had been no stallion's, and many Shin'a'in would not bring a stallion off the plains, they were too important for the breeding program. Azaelia soon figured that it was one of the other merchants' horses and decided to go back to sleep.

Just as she had found a new comfortable position on the pallet the stallion whinnied again, waking her up completely. Grumbling angrily to herself Azaelia threw her few blankets off and got up. She stormed to the tent flap and snapped it open only to be stop short by a magical sight.

There right in front of her framed by the moonlight was one of the tallest horses she had ever seen. He looked like a bit of moonlight spun into life, with his white coat and silvery hooves shining with an unearthly light. He carried himself in a way that made it clear that he was well aware of his unholy beauty. With his neck delicately arched and that silver wave of a mane flowing down over his shoulder. His tail was held high with a certain stubborn pride, and one foreleg was frozen in the act of pawing at the earth. In short, he was gorgeous and he knew it.

Azaelia was struck numb with amazement at the sight of this horse, and something in the back of her mind tugged at her memory. _Why he looks like a _leshya'e_,_ Azaelia thought bemused. Then she shook herself out of her paralysis and moved to pet the unearthly stallion.

Suddenly she found herself looking straight into his eyes, and they were an intense sapphire blue that obliterated all thought. In the back of her mind, Azaelia heard:

_.: I Choose you Azaelia shena Vuysher'edras, after all the years of waiting and the months of searching I Choose you.:._


	5. Wyntr's Choice

The stopover in Sorrows was proving to have been very useful. Not only did Wyntr learn that she had been on the wrong tract heading directly north like she had been she learned that she should have gone west towards lake Evendim then north through the Pelagir Hills. To say that learning she had gone miles out of her way frustrated her would have been an understatement. Luckily Vanyel (with Stefan and Yfandes' support) offered to gate Wyntr as close to the clan's current location as he could get her. Wyntr had protested but the spirits had insisted. Therefore she found herself stepping through a Gate in the middle of the Forest of Sorrows and then walking out of a cave somewhere in the middle of the Pelagir Hills. She had to rest for a moment – in the past traveling by Gate had always made her slightly queasy in the past, some things never changed apparently. She sent a wordless thought of thanks back to Vanyel; she recalled hearing that producing a Gate had always been a painful task for him. Clearing her mind of the remaining dizziness Wyntr set out through the wilderness following the unmistakable pull of her Chosen.

* * *

Thunderhawk k'Treva was desperately fighting the urge to scream and rant at the young men and women in front of him. He had to remind himself that to insult their intelligence and parentage right in front of them would be rude. He wished, not for the first time during this particular lesson that Sunfeather was still teaching these magic lessons with him. However, she had returned his feather and gone back to her home Vale, only just this morning leaving him disillusioned and with a broken heart. Thunderhawk shook his head in exasperation at the thought of that painful goodbye. _Thinking of her does nothing to improve your temper;_ he scolded himself.

"Again, do it again." He growled at his students seeing them grimace in. Although he did not delight or deliberately set about causing others humiliation; he did on occasion take comfort in the fact that he was not the only one miserable. After all he was only human. Thunderhawk pushed them through the shielding exercise again and again, until eventually one of them snapped.

Thunderhawk had to quickly put up a shield of his own to contain the sudden surge of energy and another one to protect him and the young mages. He was furious now, at them and at himself for pushing them so hard. He knew better than to teach when he was angry – he knew from painfully gained experience that the magic would not respond to such mistreatment; at least not in a way that any decent mage could find useful. He was furious with himself for pushing them so hard.

"Enough of this!" He shouted not bothering to hide his temper. They winced and that only served to make him angrier. "Tomorrow you all will learn how to do this properly." With that, he dismissed them. They filed out of the teaching circle as fast as they could, all that is but one.

Thunderhawk scowled at the youth in front of him, certain that he wasn't going to like what the young man had to say.

"What a splendid disposition you have brother, you should really consider changing your usename to Brighthawk," the youth said with heavy sarcasm. If possible Tunderhawk's scowl deepened, he stared at his younger half-brother wishing that it was time for him to return to his home Vale. _Be careful what you wish for,_ he could not help thinking of the Shin'a'in proverb.

Starblade k'Sheyna stared back at his elder brother not at all daunted by the Tayledras' legendary temper. _That is the problem with younger brothers;_ Thunderhawk thought that with a sigh of exasperation,_ they are not afraid of anything! Neither are younger cousins._

As if the thought summoned him Thunderhawk's younger cousin came waltzing around the bend in the path. Starfall took one look at the two brothers glowering at each other and broke out into a wolfish grin.

"I see he's being his usual sunny self." Starfall remarked with sarcasm to rival Starblade's.

"If I did not know that good heart you keep locked away brother, I would think that you were on your way to becoming a monster." Starblade remarked to their cousin.

"I would have to agree cousin. Some days I would not be surprised to learn that Thunderhawk has become a blood-path mage." Starfall continued, although Thunderhawk knew that they were not serious he was in no mood for their jokes.

"I wish I had no family." Thunderhawk announced to no one in particular. It was not as strong of a statement as he wished to make, but he was attempting to reign in his temper.

"Yes but you love your family." Starblade reminded him with a cheeky smile.

"Most days," the Hawkbrother replied begrudgingly. They were grinning openly now and he knew that soon they would start laughing. He stormed away before that foolishness could start. The sound of their laughter floating on the breeze goaded him into walking faster.

As he was walked, his Bondbird Mai flew amongst the tree branches above his head keeping pace.

_.:Temper bad.:._ The spotted Kestrel told him, sounding reproachful.

_.:Yes Mai, temper bad.:._ Thunderhawk replied stopping and raising an arm. The Kestrel flew down and landed on the offered arm with a grace that Thunderhawk envied. The raptor regarded him with one golden eye, before hoping up to his shoulder where she proceed to preen his hair. As soon as she was settled, Thunderhawk resumed walking. He was heading in the direction of the hot springs, thinking that a good long soak would help him shake his bad mood. If nothing else, he could drown his morning away.

It had been a decidedly awful morning. Thunderhawk had awoken to find the space in his bed that had once been occupied by Sunfeather empty, except for the wing feather from Mai he had given her just a few weeks ago. He had thought that he and Sunfeather would have spent the rest of their days together; apparently she did not feel the same way. He did not know what it was he had done to make her leave him, and he had spent the majority of his day wracking his brain for an explanation. Sunfeather had left him no explanation and Thunderhawk knew that she would never tell him. He brooded over the whole situation, making his temper fouler than usual.

The feeling that he was needed outside of the Vale intruded upon Thunderhawk's brooding. He was not much of an Empath and he barely had any Foresight but when he got such persisting sensations, Thunderhawk never ignored them. He changed direction quickly, though he was careful enough not to upset the Kestrel. Mai may not have been bothered by his sudden change in direction but the Tayledras he almost ran into certainly found it an inconvenience. Thunderhawk's almost victim turned out to be his uncle Sunfire, Starfall's father.

"Thunderhawk," Sunfire began, "just the man I was trying to find." He sounded happy to see his nephew, but Thunderhawk knew his uncle well and he could hear the concern and the excitement in Sunfire's voice.

Sunfire motioned for Thunderhawk to follow him, and although he raised a questioning eyebrow, he followed his uncle obediently enough. They walked in silence for a moment or two, then the lecture Thunderhawk had been expecting form his uncle began. He was actually surprised it took Sunfire as long as it had before he started to criticize Thunderhawk.

"Starfall and Starblade both told me how quickly your lesson deteriorated today."

"Good news travels fast." Thunderhawk murmured under his breath. His uncle sighed with exasperation at that comment.

"Nephew if you controlled your temper," Sunfire persisted, "and learned some patience you would be an Adept. You could even be a Healing-Adept you have the potential. If only you would let me Heal those channels."

"Uncle, we've been through this a hundred times, the answer is still no. I am happy as a Master level Mage. Those channels were burned closed for a reason."

"Thunderhawk you cannot believe that your power going rouge was meant to happen"—

"Yes I can. I was never comfortable with it and am happy with what is left to me." Sunfire looked ready to protest but Thunderhawk cut him off. "You may not believe it Sunfire, but I am content with being mediocre, even though I am the great Nightsong's son. Besides you have Starfall and Starblade who will be Adepts, isn't that enough glory for you?"

"Thunderhawk you wrong me."

"I am sorry Uncle. That was uncalled for."

"Yes it was, but it is understandable." Thunderhawk turned to look sharply at his uncle; he did not expect Sunfire to understand. His expression must have been funny for Sunfire began to laugh, and his hawk-eagle Skyr responded to Sunfire's laughter with a cry of his own. Thunderhawk was taken further aback by his uncle's laughter.

"Thunderhawk what I am going to do with you?" Sunfire asked, as they reached the Vale, a visible divider between the lands protected by the Tayledras and their home. Thunderhawk did not bother to answer his uncle.

"You are to do nothing with him, brother mine." A woman's clear voice answered for him. Thunderhawk slowly turned his attention away from his uncle and on what laid before him. There standing just inside the protection of the Vale was a woman with long silver hair decorated with various beads and feathers. She was dressed much like a scout with long flowing sleeves being her only extravagance. Upon her shoulder sat a falcon whose feather's had long since been bleached to white by the power his bondmate used on a daily basis. Her features were very similar to Thunderhawk's own and even more familiar. He had after all been looking at that face all of his life.

"Nightsong," Sunfire greeted her warmly. She moved to greet her brother properly and it was then that Thunderhawk noticed that she was not alone.

Standing next to her was an animal that until then Thunderhawk thought was only a legend. Children of k'Treva Vale knew some version of the tale about Wingsibs Savil and Vanyel and their _leshy'a _horses. Many had spent their childhoods playing at being the heroic wingsibs from Valdemar. Thunderhawk had been no exception, especially since the tale concerned his family intimately.

The horse was everything Thunderhawk had imagined. From her long flowing mane that looked like spun moon light to her gracefully arched neck and silver hooves. Thunderhawk was nearly blinded by the brilliance of her white coat.

"Mother," he mumbled turning shocked eyes on Nightsong.

"I found her wandering out among the hills," she said by way of explanation. "She told me who it was she was searching for and I brought her here to help." Nightsong paused watching her son; he only continued to look flabbergasted. "Thunderhawk remember when you were a child you use to wish that you had a _leshy'a_ horse of your own, just like Vanyel?"

Thunderhawk tried to think of a reply, but it was as if his mind had been frozen; he just could not comprehend what it was his mother was saying to him. Then the mare whinnied and stepped towards him, and Thunderhawk found himself staring into the brightest sapphire eyes he ever saw. The world was lost to him them.

_.:I am Wyntr and I'll be yours Thunderhawk, and yours as well Mai.:._ The honey like mindvoice said with a warm chuckle. He felt her love enveloping him and accepting him then, and it was the greatest feeling to know that he would always have her love. For a brief moment, he thought Mai might object to the idea of sharing him, but the Kestrel seemed just as welcoming of Wyntr as Wyntr had been of her.

When he finally came back to the world the first thing he noticed was the smile on Nightsong's face and the tears standing in her eyes.

"Mother, I…," he drifted off not knowing what to say to her; there was so much after all.

"It's alright. I always knew you had wings my Thunderhawk, now it's time for you to test them." Confused by her acceptance and utterly lost, Thunderhawk turned to Sunfire for help.

"She's right you know," his uncle told him. He handed Thunderhawk some saddlebags that, judging by their weight, were well prepared for a long journey. "The Vale never really suited you nephew. Perhaps in Valdemar you will find what you seek."

"Here I want you to take this," Nightsong said handing him a thick leather bound book. _This book must be older than the Vale_, Thunderhawk thought as he took it in rather numb hands. "Your father wanted you to have it, inside is recorded the history of our family. Firefox claimed that it goes back all the way to the time of the Mage Wars. I am not to certain, but then I never did bother to read it."

"Mother you said 'our' family." Thunderhawk said he was so shocked by everything he could focus on that. He did not even fully register the fact that Nightsong had mentioned the forbidden subject, his father.

"Yes I did. Your father was descended from the twin sister of Starwind; my forefather Brightstar's adopted father. Starwind and his sister were descendants form the mage who started writing this record, so it is our family."

"Oh." Was all he could think to say, he quickly covered his confusion by trying to find a saddlebag with enough room for the book.

"_Zhai'helleva_ Thunderhawk," his mother said hugging him and giving him a kiss. "Please try to come back and see me, I do love you."

"I love you to mother."

Then with one more farewell to both Nightsong and Sunfire, Thunderhawk climbed into the saddle on Wyntr's back and with Mai flying above them turned his back on k'Treva Vale.


End file.
